


little things

by crosspolination



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, Alternate Universe, BASICALLY luna loves aranea. relatable, Bodyguard AU, Canon Divergence, F/F, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, everything is twisted. canon ffxv can suck my dick, still the same AU where aranea is luna's bodyguard, the events of ch9 are completely twisted, this fic includes long descriptions of how luna loves aranea....which again relatable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 22:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10448922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crosspolination/pseuds/crosspolination
Summary: Luna realizes that she loves a few things about her bodyguard. Or, maybe the little things are what make Luna love Aranea so intensely.Or, the one where Luna just loves Aranea so damn much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> guess what time is it......  
> physically for me its 4 am but the clocks wen tback one hour so its 3 am BUT IT'S 4 FOR ME
> 
> i lvoe araluna it's the only good ship in my life so here's more...fic

**Hair;**  

Luna loves Aranea’s hair. 

Luna loves Aranea in general, but that’s another topic — one she doesn’t want to dive in at this moment in time. She is aware that whatever relationship she has with her bodyguard would only bring her despair, knowing that if the time ever came, Aranea would take a blow for Luna, and that’s one thought Luna can’t dwell too much on. 

 _Still_ , the point is: Luna loves her hair. It’s dark gray, and it’s long, and she has some bangs that fall on her face. Luna absolutely adores them. She wishes she could reach out to touch it, to know what it would feel like to thread her fingers through it, but she holds back the urge to do it every single time her bodyguard stands next to her. 

She notices Aranea’s struggle with it, too. She knows Aranea used to have a helmet on her old armor as a mercenary, so the lack of it now with her new armor as a bodyguard makes her realize just how messy having long hair is. It’s quite a funny situation, Luna thinks, when she sees over her shoulder how Aranea jumps and lands down on an enemy with her spear and her hair flows up with the wind, and then falls to stay incredibly messy. 

Luna loves it, anyway. She loves Aranea’s messy hair when she’s done fighting because it only represents her more. She loves the way her hair moves graciously as she fights an enemy, but she probably loves more the way Aranea pushes it out of the way with a sigh of frustration afterwards. 

“This is so annoying,” Aranea says, making her spear disappear in thin air. “I should probably cut it off.” 

Luna’s gasp is completely involuntary, but it still catches Aranea’s attention. “You could tie it up,” Luna replies, trying to not sound as horrified as she was. 

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re fond of my hair, dear,” Aranea grins wickedly at her. Luna has enough self-control to not let herself blush.  

“I am not,” Luna lies, but she knows Aranea sees right through it. “I am simply making a suggestion – you could tie it up, or braid it, but cutting it seems like an extreme option.” 

Aranea hums. “Yours is short,” she says, walking closer to Luna. “If I cut mine, we could be matching. Now, wouldn’t that be nice, huh?” she finishes, teasingly. 

Luna subconsciously runs a hand through her own hair. It _is_ quite short. It falls on her shoulders, and she has bangs that she pushes to the side now, creating a fringe, but other than that it is quite short. It doesn’t allow her to make a ponytail or a bun. 

“I’m thinking about letting it grow,” Luna explains to her. “So you have no reason to cut it off if you’d wish to match.” 

Aranea stares at her, up and down, smirking. Luna stands up straighter, her hand still on her spear. 

“Fine,” Aranea finally says. “I won’t cut off my hair. But – you’ll have to tie it up, because I trust you with my hair more than I trust myself.” 

Luna grins, trying to not look too excited at the thought of finally getting her hands on Aranea’s hair. Would it be considered weird to want to know if her hair was as soft as it looked? Her thoughts are swiped away as Aranea pats her back and walks past her. 

“Come on, princess,” Luna makes an effort to not giggle. She’s only ever called ‘princess’ by Aranea when she’s being playful. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us. I’ll let you test out hairstyles after I’m done showering, okay?” 

“That sounds excellent,” she replies, jogging a bit to catch up with her. They _do_ have a long night ahead – they’ve still got places to visit. Luna’s job to heal people is not nearly half done for this year, so they have to hurry if they want to make it. “I cannot wait.” 

“I’m sure you can,” Aranea grins, and Luna has to hold back a very fond smile. This is fine. 

  

Luna is entertaining herself with the books the little hotel they’re staying in has to offer. Books about astronomy always come in handy and always seem to chase after her, even when she has no intentions to forget what her duty is. She can hear Aranea drying her hair on the bathroom, and she finds that the sound of the hair-dryer combined with the knowledge Aranea is in there makes her feel too much at home. She’s not sure what to do with this information – all she knows is that it shakes her body a little, but decides to remain calm about it.  

Aranea steps out of the bathroom after minutes, hair dry, and dressed with a red night gown.  

“Okay, I’m ready,” Aranea says, closing the bathroom door behind her. “I’m free for you to do whatever you want with my hair.” 

“Fantastic,” Luna grins, putting her book aside, and standing up from the bed. “You need to tell me which one is the most comfortable for you, alright?” 

“Alright.” 

“Good. Please, sit down in front of the mirror. I need to find hair ties.” 

Aranea does as she’s told, and Luna is basically shaking with anticipation. She’s been _curious_ for so long, and she’s quite a stubborn person – she wouldn’t have rested until she knew what Aranea’s hair felt like. Brush in hand, Luna comes from behind Aranea, who grins up at her reflection in the mirror. 

Her hair is _soft_. Luna briefly wonders if brushing it is even necessary – it feels like it would fall apart if Luna brushed it. It’s so beautiful. She relishes in how perfectly she can run her fingers through her hair as she brushes back the bangs and the rest of her hair. She ties it up on a high ponytail, and when she looks back at the reflection in her mirror, she freezes. 

She’s _gorgeous_. Luna knows a million words, knows a million synonyms for the word _gorgeous_ , and yet none of them seem to fit what she’s seeing on the mirror. Aranea is gorgeous all the time, but seeing her without her bangs and with her hair pulled up makes Luna’s stomach warm, and it makes her heart squeeze in her chest. She looks more liberated, less cocky, and overall – peaceful.  

“I like it,” Aranea comments, bringing her hand up and toying with the ponytail. “What do you _think_ , huh? Is it a good look?” 

“I think you suit it perfectly,” she tells her, sincerely, because what else is there to say? No words will ever do justice to what Luna is thinking, so the simple and understated truth seem to be enough for now. 

Aranea nods. “Still, I don’t want to settle for the first option. You said there was more options, didn’t you? I wanna see them all.” 

Luna doesn’t have any problem with that petition. She unties her hair, and tries to not stare too much at the reflection in the mirror, because Gods above and below, Aranea was gorgeous with either hairstyle. 

She doesn’t like the bun. “I don’t like that it weighs on my head. When I’m fighting, it’s gonna come undone.” 

She tilts her head to the side when she sees the braid. “Looks fancy. It’s quite comfortable, too.” 

When Luna ties a braid into a bun, Aranea hums. “This looks like the kind of hairstyles I’d wear on a fancy meeting. Maybe not for fighting, but good anyway.” 

“Which one are you most fond of?” Luna asks after a while.  

“Either the ponytail or the braid,” Aranea replies. “Can’t choose.” 

“You could use both,” she recommends. “I do not have any problems in doing your hair every day.” 

“I can do it, too,” she says, turning around to face Luna. “But I think I like it more when you do it.” 

Luna’s not strong enough to not blush this time. 

The hairstyle change becomes part of their routine before leaving wherever they’re staying, Aranea would always come out with a ponytail or a braid on her hair, with Luna smiling proudly standing next to her. 

  

Her dream of getting to run her hands through her hair becomes true, eventually, when Aranea is lying fast asleep next to her. Luna threads her fingers through her hair, as usual, and it never stops surprising her how soft it is. Aranea sighs softly, moving slightly, and going back to sleep. 

Luna smiles. Luna loves Aranea’s hair in every way, but maybe her favorite style is the messy bed-head she carries right now. 

  

 **Hands;**  

Aranea’s hands are often guarded by gloves. Obviously, with the way she fights and wears the spear, gloves are perfect for avoiding cuts. She avoids having her hands calloused, and whenever she removes her gloves, her hands are soft but strong. 

She doesn’t wear any nail polish, but her nails are always perfect – like she’s taken her time to make them look pretty, even without nail polish. Luna likes to observe them, because she’s aware of Aranea’s use of gloves now, but there are small scars across her hand that extend to her arm, and she’s _so_ interested. 

She likes to hold her hand, she likes it when Aranea grabs her hand to drag her to a place, to make her cross a complicated and fragile bridge, or whenever she feels like making a joke and bowing down while taking her hand. Aranea’s hand is warm, and it fits so perfectly with her own. 

Aranea is naturally touchy. At first, when she first started to work with Luna (never _for_ Luna, never) she would restrain herself from any touch towards Luna, just being there for whenever Luna needed to go out. As time passed and their relationship grew, Aranea got more comfortable with touching her.  

Out of nowhere, she would put her hand on Luna’s arm. She would bring her closer, she would squeeze her hand to reassure her, and in certain situations where they’re both a little tipsy (even when Luna doesn’t _want_ to admit it), a hand would end on her waist, guiding her as she walks. 

But, she thinks, she likes her hand the most whenever Aranea cups her face. They’re so _gentle_ and yet hard, like Aranea knows Luna isn’t made of glass, but decides to be gentle just out of love. She loves when Aranea holds her face on her hands, feeling the warmth of them against her cheeks. She loves it when they travel further down, the way a chill runs down her spine when Aranea drags her index finger down her neck and the way her hands explore her body. Carefully, but enthusiastically. 

Luna decides that at the end of the day, she loves her hands the most when they’re holding Luna’s, fingers interlaced, occasionally squeezing, and always joined by a smile and a kiss. 

 **Lips;**  

Her lips always look so kissable. It is the honest truth. They’re plump, always shining, always curled up in a tiny smile. Luna often thinks about how she desperately wants to reach out and drag her, just to join their lips together, just to know what it would be like.  

Aranea would wear very light makeup – always eyeshadow and light pink lipstick, nothing that stood out too much on her lips. Except _one_ day. 

“I don’t know where my makeup went,” Aranea explains when she comes out of the hotel with red lipstick on. Luna has a lot of trouble looking away. “This will do.” 

Luna nods. “It’s nice,” she says, hoping to not be as red as Aranea’s lips. A different color of lipstick should not affect Luna this much, but there it is – her mind often drifting off to thoughts and daydreams about kissing her. She’s got a duty ahead of her, so she pushes the thoughts off and focuses on healing people. 

The thoughts resurface again, when they’re on the hotel, Luna’s back resting against the headboard and Aranea sitting on the edge of the bed, just talking. Aranea always grounds her to earth, makes her forget her duty as Oracle, brings out the human side of her. Brings out the _Luna_ side of her, not Lady Lunafreya, not The Oracle, just Luna.  

This is how she finds herself having a stupid conversation. 

“No, I have not had my first kiss,” Luna says. “Why does it matter so much, anyway?” 

Aranea hums. “It’s surprising, that’s all. One would think a beautiful, twenty-two-year-old woman like you would’ve kissed her fair of people by now.” 

Luna shrugs. “As you might have noticed, I lack the time to do these things. It is only natural.” 

Besides, Luna thinks, the only person she’s willing to kiss is in front of her, but that’s not going to happen. She has been wanting to kiss her for the past two years, but she has done her peace with it. That is, until Aranea reaches out and grabs her hand. 

“Would you like to have your first kiss, then?” she asks, not flirtingly, not jokingly. There is nothing but pure honesty in her eyes. 

Luna swallows a little. “Yes.” 

“Okay, then,” Aranea says softly, using her free hand to cup her cheek. Luna inhales, her mind going blank for ten seconds. “Close your eyes.” 

She does as she’s told, and before she can realize it, she’s being kissed. Both of Aranea’s hands come to hold her face, and she feels so inadequate – she doesn’t know what to do, she doesn’t know where to put her hands, doesn’t know _anything_. It’s overwhelming, because Aranea’s lips are soft and amazing and Luna might be losing her head a little. 

Aranea’s lips are soft, moving slowly, fully-aware Luna has never kissed anyone, and her body reacts little by little. She moves her lips, and it’s a _kiss_. They’re _kissing._ She’s kissing Aranea Highwind. It’s intoxicating, in a way, because she feels like she’s about to die – this is heavenly. Slowly, Aranea breaks away, and Luna opens her eyes to find her inches away from her face. 

“How was that?” she asks, smirking.  

“Can we do it again?” Luna feels a bit stupid for asking, but Aranea has made her brain go foggy and she doesn’t have it in her to care anymore.  

Aranea re-positions herself – she ends on Luna’s lap, her legs straddling her on each side, and Luna is sure today is the day she dies.  

She leans in, initiating the kiss this time, and she likes to think she can be fast learner. If Aranea’s soft moans mean anything, it means that she’s learned fast. Aranea’s lips leave hers to travel down her neck and her collarbone, and Luna wonders how can someone be so wonderful doing such a simple act as kissing. 

Almost like she read her thoughts, Aranea comes up again, giving her a short kiss. “You’re amazing,” she tells Luna. 

Luna stares at her – her flushed face, her red lips, and her hands holding her. 

She is probably half in love with her already. 

“You too,” she responds, a bit out of breath. 

  

 **Eyes;**  

Aranea’s eyes are the most hypnotic part about her. 

They are a very dark shade of green, and though that’s what draws someone’s attention, the feelings that they convey is what make people stay. Luna is enamored with the amount of emotion Aranea’s eyes show. 

When she firstly came to her house in Tenebrae, days before leaving it to start her journey healing people around the land, the strong determination in her eyes made Luna feel drawn to her. The way she carried herself and the way her eyes didn’t betray her, the way she looked into Luna’s eyes and Luna felt safe immediately – that’s what blew her away. 

Luna’s enamored with the other emotions her eyes express. The happy glint they get when Aranea smiles, the way they change whenever she feels mischievous, or the intense way they light up when she’s on a fight and she’s winning. The incredible sadness that fills them whenever she gets touched by someone’s story when Luna is healing people, and deep down, one of Luna’s favorites would be the fond eyes she gets whenever Aranea stares at her for a minute too long.  

(And ever deeper, Luna loves the way her eyes get dark and her blown pupils when she’s underneath Luna, or when she’s straddling her, stopping the kisses only to gaze at her with a smile.) 

However, Luna is not fond of the big fear she sees in her eyes as she stands between her, Ardyn, and his sword. Aranea stumbles back, and Luna doesn’t know what to do – her brain wants to stop functioning. She senses Noctis swing by in the perfect moment, to take away Ardyn, so her entire focus can be on Aranea. 

She’s bleeding. Luna’s hand comes up to the wound, she puts her forehead against hers, and starts praying. Prays and prays and _prays_ and hopes that it will _work_. One more favor from the gods, that’s all she needs. The most important favor of all, that’s all she needs. 

It works, and she prays harder, until she feels the wound closing and her heartbeat stabilizing again.  

“Thank Gods,” she cries out, relieved, cradling Aranea into her arms. Her eyes are closed. “It’s okay. You are not in danger. I… You’re okay,” she repeats, more to herself than anyone else. 

She’s tired. Noctis is still fighting Leviathan, and she’s _so_ tired.  

Leaning down and covering Aranea’s head with her body, she whispers, “I love you,” and hopes for the best. 

  

  

Luna wakes up on a hospital bed and the first thing she thinks about is Aranea. 

“You’re quite a sleepyhead,” and there she is, sitting on a chair beside her bed. Luna sits up, almost not believing her eyes. “You’ve been asleep for _five_ days. Not even the prince slept for that much!” 

“Aranea,” Luna breathes out, dragging herself to the edge of the bed. Aranea stands up slowly, and sits down next to her. She’s _there_. Carefully, she puts her into a hug, resting her head on her shoulder. Tears appear uninvited. “I… you are here.” 

“Of course I am,” she replies, softly. “I’m your bodyguard, silly. This is my job.” 

Luna chuckles through her tears, and grips a bit tighter her clothes. “I – you – you did that for me.” She separates herself to look at Aranea. “I cannot believe you would do that for me.” 

Aranea rolls her eyes fondly. “I’m your bodyguard,” she repeats. “The doctor said I should rest for a month until I can move at full speed again.” 

“That’s perfect,” Luna says, holding her hands, squeezing them because _she’s okay_.  

“Thank you for saving me,” states Aranea seriously. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” 

Luna stares at her, surprised. “I do not understand. I should be the one saying that,” she continues, “You saved my life. _I_ would not be here if you were not with me.” 

“I suppose we saved each other,” she gives her a lopsided grin, and Luna hopes Aranea knows that for her, that statement not only applies to this situation. “Don’t put yourself at such a big risk again, okay?” her voice says that she’s joking, but her eyes are big and fearful. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

Luna stares down at their joint hands, and then up at Aranea again. Her answer is to lean in and kiss her softly, gently. 

“I love you,” Luna says against her lips. “I promise you I will take care of myself, and I will take care of you always. Can I expect the same thing from you?” 

Aranea’s eyes are filled with emotion – Luna is in love with the way they shine so bright and look so hopeful. There are a few tears falling down when she replies, “Always.” 

They both laugh, and Luna knows that she would do anything, as long as it kept Aranea’s eyes shining and it kept them happy.

**Author's Note:**

> chapter 9 wouldnt have ended like that if aranea was her bodyguard she couldve wiped leviathan using ardyn as a spear
> 
> also i listened to too much ed sheeran so sorry if it was cheesy lmao good night (or morning actually)


End file.
